


Like Animals

by gerbilfluff



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Comfort, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Piss kink, Shame, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerbilfluff/pseuds/gerbilfluff
Summary: "But, Gerbil," the Internet cried, "Surely THREE fics about Ford pissing are enough for the world?"NOPE. NOW THERE'S FOUR :DAnd somehow, this fic turned into one of the fluffiest things I've ever written. Shrugging, here.





	Like Animals

They've been fishing for the fabled Persian-faced catfish (or as the locals call it, the 'purrmaid') for several hours before Ford clutches his hand onto the side of the canoe at last. He frowns, gazing down at the water, then reels his line in. "We have to go back. Now."  
  
"What'dja see?" his best friend, now assistant, pipes up, grabbing for one of the oars. Fiddleford's eyes narrow behind his glasses, and he looks around the misty waters, his voice dipping to a whisper. "That one ornery swamp beast you were sayin' lives 'round these parts?"  
  
"No," says Ford through gritted teeth, squinting off to the side. "I just... I need a bathroom. Or at least a urinal. _Very_ badly."  
  
There's a pause, leaving just the cicadas' buzzing calls to rise and fall around them. The arm Fiddleford's holding the oar with slumps.  
  
"I think we passed a port-a-john on the way to the lake," Ford thinks aloud, pointing off in the distance. "If I remember right, it was by that mossy outcropping over there..."  
  
"Stanford," Fiddleford states.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Fidds gestures to the murky water around them. "We're IN. a LAKE."  
  
Ford blinks dumbfoundedly at his friend, until his eyes widen in realization. He sputters, embarrassed. "What are you implying?"  
  
"I can turn 'n look the other way, if ya need me to," Fiddleford adds, reeling in his catnip-baited line. "I can start lookin' away right now..."  
  
"NO. Fidds, I'm not going to urinate into the water like some kind of _animal!_ " Ford says, aghast.  
  
Fiddleford's tone is flat. "So we're gonna go back so you can, what. Go in the bushes like... some other kinda animal?"  
  
"YES," Ford says through a full blush.  
  
Fidds stares at him a long moment, mouth pursing to a line... then he gives an exasperated shake of his head. "City boys," he murmurs, putting down the fishing pole to gather both oars in his hands.  
  
"Please hurry," Ford says, his voice small.  
  
Fiddleford makes an annoyed sound from the back of his throat. He rows a little faster.  
  
And that, or so Ford thinks, is that.  
  
Fidds remains unusually stone-faced as the minutes tick by, and they near the shore. Not that Ford's aware of much by then-- curled over miserably where he sits, knees bouncing in ever more anxious time, determined to keep his dignity intact with a stranglehold grip.  
  
Finally, they hit land.  
  
"Come on, Fidds! I need a lookout!" Ford calls over his shoulder, but he's struggling to make even the few steps over the end of the canoe, his legs stiff and stilted as a stork's. "Oh, no. Nonono, I'm not going to..." He trails into a whine, yanking his zippered fly down as he hobbles up to the nearest birch tree in sight and pleads, "Don't look!"  
  
Ford tugs his dick free from his boxers just in time. His eyes roll back in his head as he feels piss spray from his slit like an angry laser, past the point of trying to aim, pounding and slapping hot against the bark, the ground, anywhere it falls.  
  
The torrent simmers to a much more manageable stream. Ford raises an arm up against the tree to rest his forehead upon it, open-mouthedly moaning his relief to the steady arc pattering on and on below him, soaking the now-darkened leaves of the foliage at his feet. "AAAA. Thank Tesla I made it, that was... _ahhhh."_   
  
He turns slightly in mid-piss, glancing over to Fiddleford, who's still huddled in the canoe, holding one hand up before his face. "Guess I needed that more than I thought," Ford calls out to him. "You need a turn after me? We're already here."  
  
"I... I'm good," Fiddleford replies tersely.  
  
Ford frowns. He can see Fidds's knees quivering up and down from this far away. It's like a bad poker player's tell, giving his friend away every time. He's not good.  
  
Shaking off his last drops of urine, Ford shifts the waistband of his boxers back up, then takes a few cautious steps in the canoe's direction, one hand holding up his pants. "Fidds, what's wrong?"  
  
"Don't come any closer!" Fiddleford blurts, raising his hand away from his face to hold it up in warning. He's avoiding eye contact. "I'm FINE, I just-- I need a minute!"  
  
"Are you _crying?"_  
  
Ford's eyes dart down to Fiddleford's lap, and he blinks at first, not sure how to process the sight of the obvious bulge tenting the fabric there.  
  
His gaze leaps up, to meet his friend's. Sees the shrinking, guilty fear in his eyes. Ford's brows furrow in confusion. "Fidds...?"  
  
Fiddleford clambers around in his canoe seat, turning his back on Ford entirely as he plunks back down. He gives a bitter chuckle at the lake. "Y'just HAD to drag me out here, all the way from California... Just so you could find out yer best friend's a dirty, stinkin' _pervert."_  
  
"I don't understand," is all Ford can say, eyes wide behind his glasses.  
  
Fidds gives a growl of frustration. "Look. You remember in Backup U, when we were up late playin' Truth or Dare, and you asked what got me goin', like, turn-ons? What really riled me up, like nothin' else?" he asks.   
  
"...Vaguely?"  
  
"Well, I lied. It wasn't 'big boobs'."   
  
"Oh," says Ford, still uncomprehending.  
  
His friend spells it out for him. "I like it when other fellas _piss,_ Ford. Seein' it, hearin' it... 'Specially when they're real needy 'n groanin' for it, like you were."  
  
This gets a drawling, more awkward "ohhh," this time.  
  
"Was tryin' to stay frosty out in the boat, but. With that show you were puttin' on a minute ago?" Fiddleford shakes his head. "Lord, have _mercy_. Thought I was gonna fire off right there in my--"  
  
Ford cuts him off with a quick "I think I get the idea."  
  
Fiddleford backpedals, sputtering. "Sorry! Sorry. It's disgustin', I know." He kicks at the bottom of the canoe absently. "And every friend I ever had who's found out, didn't wanna hang around with me no more. Heck, word spread fast in town, 'bout that McGucket kid who kept gettin' stiffies from other boys in the bathroom. I got _real_ good at runnin', Ford." He pauses, his words starting to waver. "You're the longest I ever did keep a friend. But now YOU know, too."   
  
His slouching, the defeat in his voice... It's so familiar to how Ford knows he acted when the girls at school would notice his extra finger that his chest aches to remember it. Just getting ready for the laughter to start, the drink to be thrown, the door slammed in his face.   
  
"If you need to take me off the project, I understand, just... gimme a day to pack, and I can..."  
  
"Fiddleford!" Ford says, trying to snap his friend out of whatever mental bog he's lost himself in.   
  
Fidds's gaze slinks back over his shoulder, eyes deep and wet, like a Basset hound's.  
  
"Look. Fidds. I've made it my life's work to study anomalies." Ford touches a six-fingered hand to his own chest. "Do you really think I'd shun you, just for knowing your personal tastes are a little... out of the ordinary?"  
  
Fiddleford snuffs his face into his coat sleeve. "Everyone else who's known, did."  
  
Ford scoffs at this. "Everyone else out there is an IDIOT, Fidds! Why do you think I called you _here?"_  
  
His friend says nothing.  
  
"Come on. Come up here." Ford beckons. Fiddleford obeys, turning to step from the canoe a little shakily. He seems unsure what to do with his hands, his eyes going wide in surprise as Ford brings him in for a hug.   
  
"This doesn't change anything between us," Ford says, giving him a clap on the back. "So you're _weird_. I'M weird, too. You're in good company out here."  
  
"...Truth or dare," Fiddleford mumbles to him at last.  
  
"Truth," Ford replies firmly, without hesitation.  
  
"What gets _you_ all riled up, anyhow?"  
  
Ford lets go from his embrace at the question, but there's no lewdness in Fidds's voice. Just curiosity. "All this time, and I never thought t' ask back," says Fidds with a shrug.  
  
A pause.  
  
Ford casts a long look at the empty forest around them.  
  
"Nothing. I've never felt a desire to have, uh. Sexual intercourse," he states quietly.  
  
Fiddleford blinks, surprise clear upon his face. "What, like. _Ever_ ever?"  
  
"Of any kind." Ford continues, the start of a blush tinging his cheeks. "Though I've always wondered what a blowjob feels like. I've heard good things."  
  
"Huh." Now it's Fiddleford's turn to glance around the forest. "You... wanna find out?" he offers, tilting his head.  
  
Ford's eyes widen. "What, right here?"  
  
Fidds smiles back at him, obviously warming to the idea. "Yeah. Why not? Shucks, we're already pissin' out here in the woods. Might as well go canoodlin' around with each other, too. Like a couple'a wild, horny animals."  
  
Ford gives this a moment of thought... then lets go of the edge of his pants, letting them sag below his knees. "If it's _you_ , then... yes. I think I'd like that."  
  
And soon, he's looking down into his best friend's eyes, as Fiddleford gets to his knees in the pine needles and dirt around them. Ford's heart is pounding. He can't believe it: he's actually about to lose his virginity, _right now._ And his brother Stanley swore this day would never come...  
  
Ford keeps standing there, arms pressed straight at his sides. He lets out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "I need to take my boxers off for this, right?"  
  
"That's the idea," Fidds replies kindly.  
  
Ford nods, and slides them down too, exposing his thick, if rather limp at the moment, equipment, to the muggy summer air.   
  
He gasps lightly, feeling Fiddleford's lips take hold of his penis and start to apply continuous, gentle suction. Feels blood pooling in the spongy tissues of the shaft, making it erect. He knows the mechanics involved from his medical textbooks, if only via cross-section.  
  
A memory stirs of the one porno tape Stan dared him to watch, back when they were celebrating getting their first zits. That was two men performing oral sex, too, wasn't it? He couldn't see very well through his hands covering his face, just that Stan wouldn't stop cussing about how he'd gotten pranked. Now a part of Ford wishes he could've taken notes.  
  
He closes his eyes and takes a deep inward breath, trying to calm down and just enjoy this. He rustles his fingers through Fiddleford's hair in a way he hopes is encouraging, which gets a pleased-sounding hum against his prick he can feel rumbling through to the core of him.  
  
The feeling relaxes him. Having a mouth lapping around his privates doesn't feel _bad_ , it's just very _new_ , is all. Wet, and warm, and... pleasant, all things considered. He can see why his classmates were so obsessed about getting one of these from the "babes" they went on about.  
  
He flinches, blurting an "ah--!!" as teeth suddenly graze over somewhere he'd rather not have them.  
  
"Sorry," comes Fiddleford's voice from below, teetering on overwhelmed. "I-I've never actually done this before..."  
  
"Well. This is a first for me, too," Ford reminds him.  
  
"Can I... keep...?" his friend begins, only to trail off, as Ford's hands gently guide his mouth back onto his erection. This time, Fidds takes hold of the base of his cock and draws in the head for a long, deep suckle, hollowing his cheeks...  
  
For that fleeting moment, it's. _so. GOOD._  
  
Even before he's aware he's doing it, Ford's hips begin fluttering forward, fucking deeper into his friend's mouth. An "Aah. AHH...!" slips from him at the rush of pleasure-- already, he's spurting, hot spunk falling out of him-- he hears coughing, feels Fiddleford dart off from him, but he's still coming, flinging semen who knows where.  
  
His friend's crouched there at his feet, one hand pumping over the erection poking from his open fly Ford hadn't noticed him unbuttoning. He's got his other hand clamped over his mouth, whimpering in what would clearly sound like distress, if Ford didn't see the first blorts of his cum falling to the ground, too.  
  
They pant to each other a while.  
  
"I should have urinated in front of you _years_ ago," Ford finally remarks.  
  
Fiddleford stands with a long, groaning stretch. "Well, there you go. That's yer standard, garden-variety hummer. More 'r less. Ow." He coughs again, touching his throat gingerly. His voice is much quieter when he continues, starting to button his trousers back up. "What'd you think?"  
  
Ford is honest. "It was... okay?" he says, tilting his hand from side to side in a waggle.  
  
The hurt look in Fidds's eyes has him backpedaling. "I mean. Good? It was pretty good. _Really_ good, at the end. Though I'm not sure what all the fuss is about," Ford admits. "It wasn't like solving an equation or anything, but it was. _Nice."_  
  
"I'm not even sure I was doin' it right," Fiddleford sighs, hands slinking into his coat pockets. "All them hometown fellers sayin' I was gay, you think I'd have a clue what t'do down there."  
  
"Well." Ford clears his throat, looking off at nowhere in particular. "Would you be up for some... practice, in the future?"  
  
Fiddleford visibly brightens at the idea. "I mean. If it's _you_. Don't see why not," he says with a widening smile.  
  
Ford stretches where he stands as well, both arms arching skyward. "I could really use a nap, all of a sudden," he says through a yawn.  
  
"Same here," Fidds agrees.  
  
"Hmm," Ford grins back. "I'll let you know if I have to use the bathroom when I wake up."  
  
He isn't expecting the high-pitched yelp from Fiddleford this gets in response. He gapes at his friend, bewildered, until Fidds points ahead of them at the four enormous teeth growing out unevenly from the shore nearby.  
  
"Oh. Wow, that's... really something," Ford begins, glancing over a bicuspid that dwarfs him. He rubs one hand against the back of his head tiredly. "You want to, I don't know. See if there's more around?"  
  
"Not really?" Fiddleford admits, stifling a yawn himself. "I... I'm good."  
  
Ford nods back. "Maybe tomorrow."  
  
They make disinterested noises to each other at the molars the size of cars as they walk away, leaving the canoe where it's docked.  
  
"Tomorrow sounds good."  
  
"Works for me."  
  
"Yup."


End file.
